


If there’s anything better than choking the British king, it’s having him choke on your dick.

by fanpersoningfox



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex uses sex to win the war, Begging, Canon Era, Choking, Crack Treated Seriously, Desperation Play, Dirty Talk, Dominant Alexander Hamilton, Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Submissive King George, Verbal Humiliation, choking porn, i guess, slight boot kink, tied up KG3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanpersoningfox/pseuds/fanpersoningfox
Summary: King George might not be the greatest talent when it comes to blowjobs but fucking his face brings its very own kind of satisfaction with it.





	If there’s anything better than choking the British king, it’s having him choke on your dick.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [traveling_ink](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=traveling_ink).



> Honestly, Alex and KG3 are my favorite characters and I was wondering under which circumstances it'd make sense for them to have sex. This is what came out and traveling_ink made me write it. The choking's for her.  
> Now I've officially written porn longer than my graduation exam essay.  
> \---  
> Also, about the dub-con tag. KG3 is not in a sitution where he would be able to give actual, real consent. What Alex does is morally despicable. However, I've made it a point that both of them are enjoying themselves (even if that's not realistic) because I just can't and refuse to write rape that's seen as porn.

There was no good, logical explanation of the events that had let to him, King George III of the United Kingdom, being in this situation. Stripped down to his undershirt and pants, tied to a chair in the cellar of a farmhouse somewhere in the colonies that was being used as the revolutionaries’ headquarters during the current stage of the war. He should have stayed at home in London but somehow he had thought that his presence on the battle grounds would tip the odds in his favor. It had not. Instead he had been captured and was not being treated like the royalty he was.

The sound of footsteps coming down stairs, followed by that of a key being turned, led the king to snap up his head. A man entered the room and closed and relocked the door behind himself. He looked quite young, dark hair tied back, and was dressed in the uniform of the continental army, without any recognizable indication of a higher rank. The king bit back a snarl. Peasants.

 The soldier stepped closer to King George, looking down at him. There was a spark in his dark eyes that the king couldn’t quite categorize. It made him uneasy.

“My name is Alexander Hamilton. I’m here because General Washington doesn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

He chuckled slightly to himself before holding up the sheet of paper he held in his hand.

“I’ve brought a statement of unconditional surrender with me. You will sign it. Alright?”

The king didn’t move, pointedly looking at the wall behind Hamilton’s elbow. If Washington wanted something from him, he would have to speak to him in person instead of sending his dog.

Had he looked at the other’s face, he’d been able to see chocolate eyes turn to steel.

“You’re here. You’ve lost. Admit it and end this bloody war.”

There was nothing playful in Hamilton’s voice. The king kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the wall. A hand, calloused from writing hundreds of letters and reports, grabbed his chin and forced him to look the other in the face.

“Look at me.”

When the king remained still the grip tightened.

“You’re our prisoner. You’re under our control. Completely.”

A shiver went down King George’s spine.

“Sign the damn statement.”

The hand slipped from his chin to his throat. He shivered again.

A shiver out of fear? _Probably._

The grip tightened. _Not really._

Hamilton leaned in to his ear, hot breath ghosting over his skin:

“Surrender.”

The American’s voice was low and dark, evoking a full body shudder from the king. He could feel his pulse racing against the thumb pressing on the artery in his neck.

 

 

Having a hand wrapped tightly around the throat of the man responsible for all of their misery made Alexander’s entire being buzz with electricity and power. Having said man shudder at his every touch made a dark and feral heat uncurl in his insides. This was not going as planned but Alexander Hamilton had always been good at accommodating to whatever life brought to him.

Slowly, he ran his free hand down one of the king’s arms, which were tied together behind the chair’s back, while tightening the grip on his neck further. The Briton’s breath had grown labored, struggling to get enough oxygen into his system. Alexander squeezed one more time before he let go and leaned back. Looking down at the flushed king, who was trying to catch his breath without showing just how much the choking had affected him, Alexander smiled.

“I’m going to break you. Break you down and crush the pieces under the heel of my boot.”

The last part of the sentence he emphasized by stepping the tip of his foot onto the edge of the chair in between the king’s legs. Alexander could hear him swallow.

 

King George III was perplexed. He had not expected things to go like this. Not the choking and definitely not his reaction to it. His blood was boiling in his veins; flashes of heat were still going from his burning lungs straight down to his crown jewels. This was about to reach another level of humiliation and frankly, he didn’t even mind. Hamilton was right; he’d already lost the war, even if he was too proud to admit it. And he was about to lose this battle as well.

His entire body tingled at the threat, intensified by the black leather boot scraping against the insides of his thighs. He swallowed heavily, finally meeting Hamilton’s eyes.

They were darkened with something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, something between hunger, mirth and pure hatred.

The stinging pain of a slap exploded on his face. One cheek, then the other with the back of the hand.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. One for each colony.

Tears were pricking at the back of his eyes when Hamilton lowered his arm.

They were both breathing heavily now, staring at each other. He felt like prey. A new, strange feeling for the king, that made his blood sing and his cock painfully hard.

 

 

Alexander ran a hand through his hair, loosening a few strands from his ponytail. He looked down at the captive and let his glance wander from the other’s bright red cheeks, over the lips he kept pressed together as if to keep the declaration of surrender in, down the chest hidden under the silk shirt, to the obvious bulge in the front of his pants. He raised an eyebrow in mock reproach, shifting his weight onto the foot still on King George’s chair, mere inches from his cock, and leaning into his personal space again.

“You like this. You’re enjoying it.”

The British king glanced away, shivering.

“I’m enjoying this, too. A lot.”

With that Alexander slid a hand into the other’s hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulled, forcing him to crane his head back.

“I could just slit your throat. Cut you open and make you bleed out, like you did to us.”

Alexander’s voice was hard as steel as he closed his free hand around the exposed throat. The king gave a choked off noise, half sob, half moan. The grip tightened.

“ _Don’t you dare make a sound._ ”

 

 

George bit his lip until he tasted blood while trying to breathe through his nose. This should not make him feel this way. He should not be all hot and bothered because of _this_. But it felt so... good. Being tied up, unable to move or get away, the hand in his hair, keeping his head tipped back, the pull on his scalp just this side of painful, the way the restricted airflow made his head swim, and the proximity of the other man, a powerful presence rendering him completely helpless.

 

 

This was it. King George III of Britain’s breaking point. Alexander knew it. He also knew he still had to push further to get the king where he needed him to be. He needed him not only helpless but truly desperate in order to win the war.

Shifting his weight slightly, he pressed his boot to the other’s crotch, not loosening the grip on his hair or throat. The response was instant: King George gasped, giving out a high-pitched moan, arching his back and bucking his hips, desperate for friction.

Alexander leaned in close to his ear, voice low and dangerous:

“I said ‘ _don’t make a sound_ ’”.

The other stilled, shivering slightly.  His breathing grew heavier the more pressure Alexander applied with his boot, but he kept quiet, biting his lower lip until he drew blood.

Letting go of the king’s neck Alexander used his thumb to wipe the scarlet drop off. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his face, taking a closer look.

“It’s not even blue. You’re just as ordinary as everyone else, you only have more money. Our money. But not for much longer. You’ve lost the war and you’ve lost right here.”

The gleam had returned to his eyes when he looked at the prisoner again, then wiped the blood onto the other’s shirt.

“Admit it.”

The king’s lips parted but no sound came out.

Alexander smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. The king whimpered softly, shifting his hips. Alexander hit him again, this time with more force, causing his head to turn to the side.

The third smack proved successful, the king letting out a breathy sound close to a groan and finally speaking:

“… alright… I… I…”

He gasped when Alexander pulled his head back by his hair again.

“You _what?_ Say it out loud.”

He closed his eyes, his voice coming out raspy and shaking:

“I’ve lost.”

 

 

Had he not been tied to the chair King George would have collapsed when Hamilton let go of him. Opening his eyes again he was met with a triumphant look on the other’s face, that was soon replaced by something darker, the same emotion he’d seen earlier, raw and carnal like hunger, but different in a way that made his stomach drop and his cock twitch.

By now he was painfully hard, erection straining against his pants where Hamilton’s boot had left a dark smudge.

Hamilton walked around him, trailing his fingers over his shoulders. George let his head fall to the side, baring his neck. Hot breath ghosted over his ear.

“Exactly. You’ve lost. You’re defeated. Captured. Tied up. You’re under our control. You’re under _my_ control.”

The king whimpered:

“Yes…”

Arms were wrapped around his torso, one hand finding back to his throat while the other was travelling downwards. When it reached the front of his pants he couldn’t help but buck up into the touch, desperate for direct stimulation. Immediately the grip on his neck tightened.

“ _Still._ Have I said you could move?”

Hamilton all but growled into his ear, sending shivers and hot flashes of need right down his spine. George could feel the other’s arousal pressed against his back and bit down on his lip to keep himself from moaning out.

His efforts were foiled by Hamilton pressing the heel of his hand to the bulge in the king’s pants, rubbing small circles into it. The moan that left George’s lips was high pitched and downright filthy. He would have been embarrassed if he hadn’t been too far gone to care. It felt so good, all of it, he was close to seeing stars.

Then the hand disappeared. George whined, hips twitching, bucking desperately into thin air.

“No, please, please, don’t… don’t stop… please…”

A king really shouldn’t beg like this but he just couldn’t help himself. He heard Hamilton chuckle but the command he was given was hard and cold:

“ _Quiet.”_

 

 

Alexander returned to his original spot in front of his prisoner, eyeing him up and down. The king was a sight to behold. Hair mussed and sticking up in places, eyes wide, glassy and filled with tears of pleasure, cheeks flushed, lips slightly agape and glistening with spit and blood from where he’d been biting them too hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, limbs shaking, and a small spot of precome staining his pants. Everything about him was begging for him to be taken.

Taking a steadying breath and running a hand through his hair, Alexander pulled himself together. He had a war to win.

Therefore he carefully weighed his words before leaning back into King George’s personal space. Staring him down, he let his voice ring with authority and power:

“You have lost the war.”

The king shivered, whispering a weak “yes”.

“You have surrendered, to me.”

The reply was more of a moan than an actual word but either way a definite “yes”.

Alexander wrapped his hand around the king’s throat once again, choking him lightly while nudging his knees apart and stepping in between them. A needy groan left the Briton’s mouth, followed by a whimpered “please…”

“Please what?”

Challenge lay in Alexander’s voice as he tightened his grip on the other’s neck, making him gasp.

“How about we put that royal mouth of yours to a better use than begging? Pay back the taxes in kind, if you will.”

With his free hand he undid his pants and pulled out his cock, eyes not leaving the king’s face. Alexander bit back a smirk as he watched the other’s eyes widen, gaze flicking from his erection to his face and back down.

Slipping his hand from the king’s throat to the back of his head Alexander forced him down onto his cock.

King George’s mouth was hot and soft and wet, and Alexander pushed in until his tip hit the back of the other’s throat, causing him to gag. Alexander tightened his grip on the king’s hair and held him in place, relishing in the sensation of the other’s throat fluttering around his dick. Then he began to rock his hips, dragging his cock over the king’s tongue and lips before thrusting down his throat again.

He ran his fingers down King George’s neck, stroking along his pulse line and making him shiver, sending pleasant vibrations to his own dick. When he wrapped his hand around the king’s throat he could feel his cock move inside. Tightening his grip meant even more friction and made up for King George’s lack of skill. Not that Alexander even expected him to put in any effort; the revolutionary was absolutely satisfied with fucking the king’s face.

Every time the other seemed to adjust to his pace Alexander sped up his movements, making him choke again. If there’s anything better than choking the British king, it’s having him choke on your dick. It’s the ultimate power rush, and Alexander was getting off on it.

He let out a low, guttural sound, fingers digging into the king’s neck hard enough to bruise as he came down his throat.

King George might not be the greatest talent when it came to blowjobs but fucking his face brought its very own kind of satisfaction with it.

 

 

King George was broken. When Hamilton pulled back he coughed out spit and come, gasping for air. Tears were trickling down his face, his jaw and throat aching, his cock throbbing almost painfully.

Hamilton had straightened himself up again and was now eyeing George, once more with that look in his eyes the king just couldn’t place. Honestly, he didn’t even care about figuring it out anymore.

He looked up at Hamilton, defeat written plainly on his face. Hamilton ran his fingertips along George’s jaw, smearing the drops of spit that had run down his chin. The king shivered, his voice raw and broken:

“Please…”

Hamilton leaned down to him, bracing one hand on George’s thigh and cupping him lightly with the other.

“Is this what you want? Being touched by one of the men who’ve defeated you? By the man who has broken you?”

George let his head fall back as the other’s breath brushed over his skin, his own voice barely more than a breathy moan:

“Yes… please…”

His hips were jerking on their own accord, bucking up into Hamilton’s touch, desperate for friction. He could feel himself growing closer to the edge, he was almost there, a continuous string of pleas and whimpers falling from his lips, just a little more…

Hamilton moved away.

The king keened:

“No! No, please, please…”

Hamilton’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to be asking something from me? Do you really think you’re going to be getting something out of this? Do you really think that?”

George whimpered. Hearing those words only intensified his arousal to the point where he was about to cry.

“Please… please… I…”

“ _Quiet.”_ Hamilton’s hand was once again at his throat. “As much as I enjoy hearing you beg, it’s not going to change the fact that you don’t deserve release. You’ve suppressed us for so long, you deserve to suffer. You’ve taxed us relentlessly, you’ve never been satisfied, so you will never be satisfied either.”

George made a sound like a kicked puppy, tears spilling over.

Hamilton looked away as if considering something, then met the king’s eyes again:

“Unless…”

 

 

Alexander held his breath. This was the moment all of this had been leading up to, the moment that might win them the war.

He pulled the statement of unconditional surrender from where he’d tucked it into his coat and presented it to King George.

“If you were to sign this, it might be enough to convince me not to be as cruel to you as you have been to us.”

The king was in tears, on the brink of orgasm, absolutely desperate, and exactly where Alexander needed him to be. He nodded:

 

“Alright. Just… please…”

Biting back a grin, Alexander stepped behind his prisoner and untied one of his hands. His plan was working out.

 

 

King George III signed the statement of surrender with trembling fingers. He could barely focus enough to spell his own name.  As soon as he’d finished the last stroke of the _III_ , Hamilton snatched the paper and the pen away.

George’s hand flew to his aching cock but Hamilton caught his wrist.

“Oh, no. Did I say you could touch yourself?”

The king let out a whine, baring his neck, simultaneously a gesture of submission and an invitation for the other to grab it again. Hamilton followed it immediately, squeezing tightly, and all but growling into his ear:

“You’ve surrendered. Unconditionally.”

Hamilton let go of George’s wrist in favor of pressing his palm to the king’s cock. George moaned, high pitched and helpless, at the increasing pressure. He’d been kept on edge for so long, his entire body was now trembling at the stimulation. His free hand found Hamilton’s arm, fingers twisting into the fabric of the uniform coat as his orgasm washed over him, making him shudder and gasp against Hamilton’s hands.

When the king came back to his senses, his hands were again tied orderly together behind his back. Hamilton was standing at the door, looking at him with a smug quirk of his lips, the statement of unconditional surrender in hand.

“It was a pleasure negotiating with you.”

Then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I may or may not have a thing for dom!A.Ham and although I don't usually see KG3 as submissive, it just fit so nicely here...  
> Maybe I should write a sequel with reversed roles?
> 
> This has been the first thing I've written in months as well as the first explicit porn, so GIMME FEEDBACK PLS!!  
> Hey, I get that you may not want your name on choking porn, even in the kudos section on ao3, but maybe log out and leave anonymous guest feedback/kudos bc I've put a lot of effort into this and that'd make me happy!
> 
> Also, I do not apologize for the shitty puns and references.
> 
> My tumblr is @fanpersoningfox


End file.
